


Property Of

by LearnedFoot



Series: "Branding" [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Bottom Tony Stark, Collars, Developing Relationship, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Possessive Tony Stark, Switching, but he still has them dom vibes, but only in a sexy way, sugar Daddy vibes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:01:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26381551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LearnedFoot/pseuds/LearnedFoot
Summary: The presents continue.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Series: "Branding" [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1922926
Comments: 50
Kudos: 380
Collections: We Die Like Fen 4: We Lived to Die Afen, We die afen and afen





	Property Of

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).



> I told you I would write a sequel! 
> 
> **Content Note:** Sequel to [Sponsor](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26358739), though I think it can be read on its own. CNTW only because Peter is a senior in high school and therefore seventeen. Everything is completely consensual and TBH pretty fluffy.

The presents continue.

Sometimes the gifts are practical. New backpacks, upgraded tech, advanced lab tools. Tony—yeah, Peter calls him Tony now, and wow has that taken getting used to—bought Peter those kinds of things before, too, but now he hands them over with a flourish and a bow on any random day, rather than finding excuses like holidays and obviously made-up “internship bonuses.”

But more often than the practical gifts, it’s clothing. Soft sweaters and fitted pants and button-up shirts. Even underwear, boxer-briefs in red and gold and, once, with little Iron Man masks scattered like polka-dots.

“Wow,” Peter says when he receives that pair. “Ego, much?”

Tony smirks. “You know you love it.”

Peter kind of hates how much Tony’s right. He does love it. All of it. The first time he wears the Iron Man underwear, he’s hard all day. He literally has to leave math to jerk off in the bathroom because he can’t stop thinking about the fact that he has Tony all over him, right next to his most intimate areas.

Which is—yeah. Kind of a lot.

When he sheepishly admits his bathroom break to Tony over video chat that night, he gets that smirk again. It’s self-satisfied and so very, very attractive.

“Next time send me a video, kid.”

Peter sputters and blushes and feels terribly uncool, because, uh, that is also a _lot_.

But the next time he wears the Iron Man underwear he does, in fact, work up the courage to send a video of himself, legs braced on either side of a bathroom stall, hand working furiously at his dick. He doesn’t hear anything in response for hours, and by the end of the day he’s seriously contemplating skipping his lab session that afternoon out of fear Tony’s request had been a joke.

But then a driverless car pulls up outside as school is letting out. The window rolls down, revealing Tony in the backseat, eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. “Get in,” he says, in a tone that leaves no room for argument. It’s the kind of tone that makes Peter instantly hard.

He gets in.

“I couldn’t wait until you got to the lab,” is all Tony says before pinning Peter against the leather seat and giving him the best handjob of his life.

***

Tony saves the really sexy presents for the weekends Peter stays upstate.

It starts with a blindfold—a gorgeous deep red, soft as silk but thick enough to block out all light.

“I noticed you close your eyes a lot,” Tony explains. “Not sure if that’s because of your senses or what, but I thought you might want to experiment... Wait. You’re not saying anything. You never don’t say things. Do you not like it?”

Peter’s not sure what’s more difficult to process: how turned on he is by a simple strip of fabric, or how genuinely nervous Tony sounds.

He forces himself to stop thinking about being blindfolded and tied up, completely at Tony’s mercy, and focuses on making words instead. “No, I definitely like it. I—yeah. I really like it.”

“Knew it.” Tony is instantly back to his normal self, confident and ready to rock Peter’s world. He takes the blindfold out of Peter’s hand, winding their fingers together instead. “How about we go to my room and give it a whirl?”

***

After that comes the handcuffs (reinforced, for Peter’s strength), the nipple clamps (listen, he’s kind of into pain, okay?), and, most ridiculously of all, the collar.

“This one’s just a joke,” Tony says as Peter stares at the leather collar, which has the words _Property of Tony Stark_ emblazoned across the front.

“A joke, huh?” Peter’s voice comes out like sandpaper. They’re sitting next to each other on Tony’s bed, and Peter’s suddenly really glad they still have their clothes on, because his jeans are the only thing hiding exactly how little he wants this to be a joke. “You got this special-ordered as a joke?”

“You’d think so, but no. Therein lies the joke. Turns out you can buy anything on the internet. There’re people I’ve never met walking around out there wearing these things.”

Peter’s fingers tightening around the leather. Is it wrong that thought makes him jealous? “That’s really weird.”

“Yep,” Tony agrees cheerfully. He leans over to kiss the side of Peter’s head. “But not for you. You’re the one person in the whole world who actually should own this, so I bought it.”

The words take a few seconds to register; when they do, Peter’s head snaps up. Suddenly there’s something even more interesting than the collar to think about. “The _one_ person?” he repeats. “You mean like…you’re not…?”

They haven’t actually talked about this. Peter had just kind of assumed there’s no way Tony Stark would content himself with fooling around with a seventeen-year-old virgin. Not that he’s thought about it a lot, because when he does it makes his heart ache. But it’s been months and they haven’t even fucked yet. There must be other...

Or not. Based on the way Tony’s staring at him like he’s out of his mind, maybe he’s totally wrong.

“You’re not seeing other people?”

“Peter.” Tony only ever uses his name when he’s being really serious. Peter straightens his back, attentive. “You’re one of my two or three favorite people on this entire planet. If you think you have anything other than my full, undivided attention, you haven’t been paying attention.” He waits a few beats and then, maybe because Peter doesn’t respond, adds, “In case that wasn’t clear, no I’m not seeing other people. Not planning to start, either.”

“Oh. Okay.” Carefully, deliberately, Peter brings the collar to his neck and, with only a little bit of fumbling, manages to buckle it. The whole thing takes long enough that it loses the dramatic effect he was aiming for, but Tony kindly stays quiet. Once the leather is solidly in place, Peter clears his throat, heart pounding out of his chest. “I’m not either. Seeing other people. I mean, I think that’s pretty obvious, but, yeah. Not doing that.”

Suddenly, Peter is being tossed across the bed, and then Tony is on top of him, hands on his hips and teeth biting marks into his neck, just above the leather. Peter can’t stop smiling.

***

“I want you to fuck me,” Peter says, once he’s stripped to nothing but the collar.

Tony, who’s lying by his side, equally naked, cups his cheek, searching his face. “Are you sure?”

Peter laughs, because yes, he’s _sure_. It’s all he’s been able to think about since the first time he saw Tony’s eyes go dark just because Peter wore a suit. “Yeah. Positive, sir.”

***

Tony fucks him hard and possessive and perfect, growling against his ear, “Mine, mine, all mine,” until Peter comes, cock untouched, eyes wet with an emotion he can’t name. He just knows it’s his favorite feeling ever.

***

It’s all perfect, and then Peter gets into MIT.

It should be the best thing that’s ever happened to him, but as he stares at the acceptance letter all he can think is that _Tony_ is the best thing that’s ever happened to him, and Boston is really far away.

Tony, of course, is thrilled. When Peter shows up to their next lab-session-slash-date, the lab is full of balloons and MIT swag. Even Dum-E is wearing an MIT hat.

“Not that I’m surprised,” Tony tells Peter as they eat the cake Tony bought for the occasion. “They would’ve been crazy not to take you. But seriously, kid, you’re gonna love it.”

“Yeah.” Peter kicks the leg of his desk, trying to muster up excitement and failing. “I don’t know. Maybe it would make more sense for me to go someplace in the city? I mean, Columbia has a pretty good chemistry program, too, and with Spider-Man, and May, and, um…” It feels too presumptuous to bring _them_ up, so he ends the thought on a shrug.

Tony shakes his head emphatically. “The neighborhood will survive a few years without their friendly arachnid protector, Pete, and I’m sure your aunt wants you to do what’s best for _you_. And MIT is what’s best for you. Hands down, no question, no other education comes close. Not that I’m biased.”

Right. Okay. So much for wondering if Tony wants him to stick around. “Yeah, you’re right.” Peter ducks his head, pretending to suddenly be extremely interested in his cake. “MIT it is.”

***

Peter’s presents become overwhelmingly college-themed after that. MIT hoodies, sweatpants, t-shirts, mugs, binders, USB drives, shot glasses—a month later, Peter’s pretty sure Tony has bought him at least one of every single item sold at the school bookstore. There hasn’t been anything Iron Man or SI themed that entire time.

That hurts.

He knows it’s stupid. _Knows_ it’s stupid. That had all basically been a joke anyway. But he can’t help feeling a little more rejected every time he opens another box to find something MIT-themed. Like, can’t Tony pretend to be at least a little conflicted that Peter is moving away?

“Yeah, that one wasn’t my favorite either,” Tony says when Peter can’t stop himself from making a face at sweatshirt number five. “But I’ve basically tapped out the design options.”

Peter tries and fails to smile. “That’s, um, it’s fine. I mean, gotta have the whole set, right?”

Tony, who has been absorbed in repairing a gauntlet, puts his tools down and turns his full focus on Peter. “Okay, you sound upset. Why are you upset?”

“I’m not.”

That earns a head tilt that Peter knows means _cut the bullshit_. It’s a look that’s normally reserved for when he’s making excuses about particularly unwise Spider-Man stunts, not personal stuff.

“I just…it’s hard to get excited about going to Boston when it means I’m going to see you less and…and…” It’s now or never. “And it feels like you don’t even care?”

Tony stares at him. And stares, and stares. And then he says, “Okay, got it. Let me get back to you on that.”

Then he turns back to his work like nothing happened, and Peter, for the first time in their entire relationship, regrets saying how he feels.

***

 _I do care_ , Tony texts him that night. _Of course I care. Let me show you how much I care this weekend. Trust me._

Peter falls asleep with the phone clenched against his chest.

***

When Peter arrives at the compound Friday evening, Tony takes him straight to his bedroom. He pulls out the definitely-not-a-joke collar, buckles it around Peter’s neck, and then kisses him like it’s the only thing in the world that matters, like Peter is the entire universe.

When Peter is breathless and begging for more, Tony does something completely confusing: he pulls back, looks Peter in the eyes, and asks, “Peter Parker, will you fuck me?”

“Uh, yeah? Duh?” Not that they don’t like variety, but they basically always fuck the first night of their weekend visits, taking full advantage of Tony’s specially designed, Vibranium-enforced bed. “What else would we do?”

Peter reaches out to pull Tony back into a kiss, but Tony places a hand on his chest, stopping him. “I don’t think you heard me. I said: will _you_ fuck _me_?”

Peter stops and lets the question sink in before dropping back onto the mattress, stunned. “Really?”

Tony nods. “Really.”

“But…” _Let me show you how much I care_. That’s what he’d texted. “Do you actually want to? Because if this is an apology, I don’t need…”

“No. I mean yes. Not an apology, definitely a thing I want.” Tony trails his nails down Peter’s side, tickling him just a little, the way he likes. “God, kid, I’ve been dying to do this. I’ve just been waiting for the right moment to ask.”

He sounds nervous, like he did with the blindfold. Peter finds it just as hard to believe now as he did then.

“I’d love to, Tony. But I don’t really know how?”

Tony kisses him, deeply. “Good thing you have an excellent teacher.” Another kiss. “And by the way, no one told you to stop calling me ‘sir.’”

***

Stretching is really weird from the other side. Weird, but good. Tony looks amazing sprawled on the bed, eyes hooded and chest heaving as Peter works his fingers into him. He’s hot and tight; Peter’s cock throbs at the idea of being enveloped by all that warmth. 

“Okay,” Tony gasps, voice wobbling, once Peter gets two fingers inside him. “Now, explore a bit. Stretch. Curl. You know what you’re looking for.”

Peter hums an affirmation and does as he’s told, scissoring his fingers, then curling, searching, trying to catalogue which movements make Tony gasp and shiver and—

Moan, low and deep and satisfied.

Peter grins. Got it.

He keeps stroking the same spot, amazed at the way Tony falls apart in front of him, legs spreading wide and mouth gaping, fingers clutching the sheets as his cock leaks precome all over his stomach.

“Am I doing it right, sir?” Peter asks, voice going a bit high. He knows he is; he _knows_. But he wants to hear the answer.

Tony opens his eyes enough to glare. “Fishing for compliments, Mr. Parker?”

Peter bites his lip. Tony always seems to like it when he does that. “Is it a problem if I am?”

“No, but you gotta earn it.”

“Yes, sir.” Peter does love a challenge. He adds another finger, doing his best to thrust them hard and fast. That always makes his own toes curl, so maybe—

“ _Fuck_ , Pete,” Tony gasps, hole tightening. And then, when Peter curls and rubs at that spot again, “Good boy.”

Peter whines, heat pooling in his gut. If he’s not careful he could come just from making Tony feel this good. Maybe one day he will. But that’s not how he wants this particular night to end. “Please, sir, can I—”

“God, yes. Fuck me, Peter. Fuck me right now.”

It’s somewhere between a plea and a command, and Peter doesn’t waste a second following orders. He covers his dick in lube, crawls on top of Tony, and lines himself up. Tony’s eyes are dark when Peter meets them. So dark Peter wants to drown in them.

“Are you ready, sir?” he asks, ignoring the way his own heart beats in his throat. He feels like he’s on the edge of jumping off a skyscraper.

Tony’s hand comes up, tracing the collar that’s still around Peter’s neck. _Property of Tony Stark_. Right. His nerves settle a little.

“Ready when you are, kid.”

This is Tony. His Tony. It’ll be okay.

He jumps.

It feels better than he possibly imagined.

“Wow,” he whispers when he’s just an inch in. “I—wow.”

Tony’s hand moves from the collar to the back of Peter’s neck, pulling him down until they’re forehead-to-forehead. His other lands on Peter’s hip, urging him forward.

“Give it to me, Pete. I want all of you.”

So Peter does that, too, sliding in until there’s nothing left to give. His entire body feels like it’s going to explode from pleasure any second; like every nerve is on fire, all the way down to his fingertips. He tries to say any of that, but it comes out a moan.

“You’re doing great, kid,” Tony says. “Now fuck me before I come just looking at you.”

Peter pulls back, tentatively, then thrust forward. And again. And again and again, until he thinks to try to angle better and—yep, he can tell when he hits the right spot because Tony gasps and bites his shoulder, which is just like, _fuck_ , so good.

“Harder,” Tony growls, so Peter goes harder, trying to hit that spot, not getting it every time, but enough that soon Tony is moaning and panting and whining just as much as he is.

Peter fumbles with trying to wrap his hand around Tony’s dick to stroke him, too, but then he loses his rhythm, so Tony replaces Peter’s hand with his own.

“Sorry,” Peter murmurs, flushing. Tony never has any problem jacking Peter off while fucking him at the same time.

Tony’s hand on Peter’s hip tightens. “Nothing to apologize for. You’re— _fuck_ , yeah, that’s the spot. You’re doing great.”

Peter focuses, pounding into the tight heat, drinking in the slap of skin against skin, the broken sounds filling the room, the praise—“Yes, good, keep going”—the taste of sweat when he dips to lick Tony’s neck—

And suddenly Tony goes stiff, arching up and tightening around Peter with a cry. Sticky warmth floods the space between them as Peter falls right over the edge with him.

***

Tony slips out of bed when Peter is still in a post-orgasm haze, reemerging from the bathroom a few minutes later with a washcloth. For some reasons he’s also wearing a black t-shirt with white letters, which Peter is too blissed out to put into readable order.

“Why’d you put on a shirt?” Peter complains, though he sighs happily when Tony sits next to him and starts wiping his stomach off. “I like it when you don’t have shirts.”

“I think you’ll like this one. Read it.”

Peter blinks, forcing his hazy brain to focus. The words swim into place: _Property of Peter Parker_. He looks from the shirt to Tony’s face.

“Oh,” is all he manages.

“This I did have to special order,” Tony says. “Though I’m sure you’ll have plenty of your own weird merch if you ever go public with your identity.”

Peter’s lips twitch into a smile. “But you’ll be the only one who actually deserves to wear it?”

“Exactly.”

Once Peter is clean, Tony tosses the washcloth over the side of the bed and stretches out next to him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Peter settles against his chest, yawning, content.

“Feel better?” Tony asks after a few minutes of peaceful silence.

Peter nods, but then stops. He does. Mostly. But…

“I still don’t like the idea of not being in the same city as you.”

“Mmm. About that.” Tony runs a finger down the top of Peter’s spine. “I should probably tell you I’ve been thinking about investing in Boston real estate. Maybe get an apartment. I hear the property values in Cambridge are going through the roof.”

Peter looks up to find Tony staring down at him, soft smile playing across his face.

“Are you serious?”

“Did you see the shirt, kid? Yeah, I’m serious.”

Smiling so hard it hurts, Peter curls back into Tony’s chest. Tony’s hand falls to his head, stroking his hair.

“Thanks,” Peter says. He’s so happy he doesn’t begin to know how to express it. “That’s the best present yet.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feedback is loved <3


End file.
